


Already In Your Veins

by fannyvonfabulus



Series: The Cavill Files [2]
Category: August Walker - Fandom, Henry Cavill - Fandom, mission Impossible: fallout
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, F/M, Human/Vampire Relationship, Reader is a vampire, Supernatural Elements, Threats of Violence, Vampire Bites, Vampires, Violence, tags updated as i go, unbeta'd - we die like men, vampire!reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24750307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannyvonfabulus/pseuds/fannyvonfabulus
Summary: You’re an old and extremely powerful vampire who sits at the top of a very illicit and impressive crime ring. August is the one who has been sent to take you down. Humans don’t know of the existence of vampires or the Others, or what you’re all capable of, and he just walked to kick the hornets nest.August Walker has finally met his match, and he’s about to know what true fear really is.-----------------UNBETA'D, we die like men
Relationships: August Walker/Reader
Series: The Cavill Files [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821538
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	Already In Your Veins

**Author's Note:**

> This all stems from last night’s dream where I was the vampire and i totally put the shits up August. Like, he was properly terrified and i really wanted to write it and see where it takes me. 
> 
> WARNING: There is going to be A LOT of violence and blood and gore in this so PLEASE head the warnings and be mindful if this is something that will squick or trigger you. I mean, this IS vampire fic with August Walker after all....
> 
> I'll be posting this on tumblr too, if you'd rather read it there: @fishcustardandclintbarton

The tendrils of smoke wind and weave upwards from the glowing embers as you breathe deeply, although breathe isn’t a word that applies to you any more, hasn’t done for the last 1248 years. You can’t even remember what it feels like to fill your lungs with air, to feel the sinew and membranes inside you expand and flush with that most vital of elements for human beings. You don’t even feel the burn of the smoke as you pull in more from your cigarette, but you can taste it, taste the ash and the sweetness of the tobacco, all of it dead, like you. You suppose being able to smoke as much as you like is one of the perks of your… condition. It can’t kill you if you’re already dead. Same goes for the single malt that you swirl around the thick crystal tumbler in front of you. You can have as much of it as you like, it’ll have no affect on you at all. It’s a waste of money really, but you appreciate the deep, rich taste of it on your lips.

It’s not as if you don’t have more money than you can spend in the next eternity or three. The perks of having lived for nearly thirteen centuries is that you’ve acquired a lot of money and a lot of priceless items. Even if you live for another thousand years and don’t accumulate any more wealth, you still wouldn’t be able to spend what you already have. The 1% look like paupers in comparison, and it’s why you’re here in the most exclusive bar and club on the eastern seaboard. You have money to spend and deals to make, deals that will make you even richer, and with that comes power, lots of it. It’s possible that you’re the most powerful being on this earth. You know there are no humans that even come close, but there are Others out there, Others that the humans have no knowledge of. It’s a fine line between the two worlds, and one that has been hidden by myths and stories for eons. But you’ve watched as the population of humans has grown and the world has shrunk, as well as the number of Others, and you think it won’t be long before both worlds are exposed to each other beyond that which can be covered by stories and legends. Everyone in this room knows of the Others, a lot of them not being human themselves, it’s how this world is run. You’ll leave later tonight with several more billion in various offshore accounts, and one of the many willing human donors for you to feast on in the back of your town car. Until then, there is business to be done, which of course comes to you rather than you having to seek it out.

You scent him before he appears next to you at the bar, his flesh heavy with sweat and cheap cologne. When you look up to assess him, you’re surprised that he smells like a truck stop bathroom, as he is definitely not the sort of man that buys the cheap stuff. This man is as tall as he is wide, massive shoulders clothed in lush, designer fabrics, the cut of his suit clearly tailored to the sharp planes of his body. He should smell like expensive whisky and earthy wood tones, not piss and beer. It’s his scent that gives him away, that tells you he’s not here for the expensive champagne and the upmarket ladies that charge by the hour. No, he’s here on behalf of someone else, probably one of the many lettered law enforcement agencies, and cheap cologne is just a part of his cover. He’s tall, a few inches over six feet so he stands taller than you as you sit on your bar stool, and he’s trying to use his height to his advantage and appear somewhat intimidating. Your lips quirk up at that, knowing full well that you could tear his torso from his hips faster than he could blink, but you let him do his thing.

“Can I get you another?” His voice is deep, with a gentle timbre to it, although you’re sure that it’s another part of his act. There’s nothing gentle about this man, about any of the people in this establishment, and his body says what his mouth doesn’t. But he says it with a smile that he actually makes reach his eyes, eyes that are as blue as the sky on a clear spring day. Or at least, what you remember of clear, spring days. He’s exceptionally beautiful, despite the unfortunate facial hair along his top lip, but you can overlook that. He could probably cut glass with his jawline, a smattering of stubble just accentuating it, and he has strong brows that cast a light shadow over those azure eyes. His hair is a sharp contrast to the rest of him: soft and brunet with gentle curls running through it that are swept back from his face, but fast escaping to hang down over his forehead.

“No, thank you,” You reply once you’ve looked him over, slowly enough that he’s starting it shift a little with how uncomfortable he finds your scrutiny. He raises his eyebrows in surprise at your decline of his offer, but he quickly schools his face back to something smoother. With a small twitch of his lips, you can tell that he’s intrigued by your refusal, clearly not used to being turned down for anything.

“Then may I join you while I get myself one?” He asks, already taking a seat on the stool next to you despite you not having answered. You incline your head and glass towards him in silent agreement, and he waves over the bartender. He orders himself a single malt like your own before turning to face you, giving you his full attention.

Now that he’s even closer, you can smell what lies under the cheap cologne and it’s….enticing. There’s the definite scent of gunpowder, and the slight bulge at his side under his armpit confirms that. There’s a trace of leather from the holster under his suit jacket, and the tang of metal from the blades that he has hidden about his person, and the smell of ink and paper, which must be from the endless paperwork he must have to do. Under that, there’s the scent that is uniquely him, the scent of his blood. It’s deep and woodsy, the aroma of pine needles and tree sap mixed with a heady, rich musk that sings along his veins. It makes you lick your lips instinctively, already tasting the thick elixir on your tongue.

Whatever he’s here for, he’ll be leaving with you tonight.


End file.
